In the waning days of the Cold War, peace is on the horizon at the Pentagon in Washington, D.C., while shadows lengthen across the globe. Micah Storm, Louisiana-born, Cajun-raised ghost operative, lives between two the swamp that raised him and the covert missions that defined him. When elite operator, Peter Jason, collapses during a special ops mission, clinical laboratory scientist, Bethanie Koren, and Physician Assistant, Leigh Michaela, uncover traces of a synthetic compound in his blood—evidence of sabotage hidden beneath the guise of endurance supplements. Dr. Carmela Daniels, a Pentagon operations analyst, connects the dots to a covert shipping experiment known only as the Lazarus Protocol, an initiative designed not to strengthen America’s finest, but to dismantle them quietly. Storm learns that Jason, a fellow brother-in-arms, is down, and the conspiracy becomes personal. From the cypress-lined waterways of Terrebonne to the classified corridors of the Pentagon, Storm must navigate a battlefield where the enemy is unseen, the weapon is disguised as salvation, and the first casualties are the very operatives sworn to protect the nation. The Lazarus Protocol is a geopolitical thriller that fuses technical realism with atmospheric suspense, exposing how fragile peace can be when war is fought in silence.
As I remember it, life began on top of a load of furniture in a sleigh drawn by a team of horses on a bitterly cold day. My mother was walking alongside in the snow when the moment arrived. She claims it was Valentine’s Day, and of all people, she should know.
I attended a one-room school house outside of the French Canadian town of Mascouche, Quebec, and later in the metropolis of Montreal. At some point, an overworked school teacher wrote a note home to my mother to say that someday I would be a writer. The rest of the family laughed.